An Unsettling Feeling

I just finished reading a rather descriptive discourse on the physical, psychological and emotional atrocities that missionary Richard Wurmbrand endured during the Soviet dictatorship in Romania in the 1960's and 70's. To read of the wicked men that tortured believers for their faith in Tortured for Christ begs the question "Why would a man or a woman stand for Christ, fully aware that there was a strong possibility of an imminent death for them and their family?" The summarized response is that "the love of Christ constrains us." We love him because he first loved us (1 John 4:19). As I sat and pondered this question this morning, the Lord gave me a terrifying realization regarding the fate of mankind.

I've been a believer and follower of Christ nearly my entire life. I received Christ when I was 6 years old, a few years after my mom and brother were killed in a single car accident on Interstate 80 near Atlantica, Iowa. I was with my dad in the vehicle in front of them. After my dad remarried, my step-mom took me to a youth group and the first time I heard the gospel ("good news") message, I surrendered my life to Christ. I was compelled by Christ's love for me, and that he died for me. This understanding floored me. I had never equated death with love. For the previous 3 years, I had equated death with sorrow, sadness and pain. To become an only child with a now single parent was very difficult to withstand. But when I heard the gospel message, I was mesmerized by its clarity, its calling and its commission. I received Christ on my hands and knees in Pastor Triestram's office, not because I understood justification or sanctification, but because I didn't want to go to hell. Christ's love and subsequent death on the cross provided a way of salvation from hell. That was the basis of my conversion as a little boy. When I got up off the floor that night, I felt like a 1000 pound pack was removed from my back. I was already carrying around that much "baggage." Having responded to the love of Christ, I knew I was commissioned to preach the gospel, and that week, I shared the gospel with Matt C. out on the playground (also telling him that he was going to hell if he didn't accept Jesus. Not sure why we weren't friends after that...)

As I sat on the couch this morning and thought about Tortured for Christ, I had a very unsettling awareness sweep over me. It was an awareness of the reality of hell. I have a hard time understanding hell. I also have a hard time understanding eternity. As difficult as it is to comprehend eternity forward, it's significantly more difficult for me to comprehend eternity past, that the triune God-head has always been. Always has been. I digress. It's hard for me to imagine an eternity of wedded bliss with my Savior. I look forward to sharing in the glory of heaven with the saints around the throne, and that I will never, ever, ever have to leave that glorified state. The cosmos will become our playground, ruling over galaxies as priests in His house. For eons upon eons, I will continue to worship my Savior. Literally billions and billions of years infinitely multiplied by billions of years. Never, ever leaving. For all of eternity. I cannot comprehend the magnitude of infinite. Words are bankrupt. "Heaven" by Randy Alcorn is one of my favorite books, can you tell?

However, not everyone will experience the joy of His presence in the New Heavens and the New Earth. Many will lick the flames of the lake of fire for eternity. Imagine being in a place of eternal hellish torment under those exact same [time] parameters. It is quite terrifying. I had a very, very unsettling awareness of the reality of this hell this morning. Never, ever leaving this horrifying place and for all of eternity being in a state of loneliness, decay (Mark 9:48 "their worm does not die, and the fire is not quenched") and anguish for my unforgiven sins (a just punishment) is more than my feeble mind can comprehend. I praise God for his saving grace and that Christ died upon that wooden cross for my sins, the things I've done wrong. My sin, my selfishness, my corrupt nature took him to Golgotha. I will forever be thankful for that simple prayer that I prayed, asking Christ to be my Savior, in the fall of 1982.

To really respond to the salvation story is to respond to the call to witness for Christ, to be his ambassador and to tell others about this saving grace. I cannot comprehend going to hell. I cannot imagine headed to that eternal prison, never to leave.

I have been strengthened to be his witness, a calling worthy of ridicule, persecution or worse. "Lord, thank you for this unsettled feeling. May it never wane cold."